


Not Alone

by TheMagicMicrobus



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: Drug Addiction, No heat, Post April, Pre Rent, Withdrawal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 23:27:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6214408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMagicMicrobus/pseuds/TheMagicMicrobus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark finally breaks through the walls Roger has built.  Not that Roger really has much of a choice at this point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not continue this, we'll see. For the foreseeable future, this will be it.

A thin beam of moonlight shone through the dirty windowpanes of a derelict apartment building on Avenue A.  Caught in this beam of light, dust particles swirled like the snowflakes outside.  In the corner of the room, sat a guitar covered in a thin layer of dust.  A camera say on the otherwise bare countertops of the tiny kitchenette.  A soft moan slid beneath the door of the first bedroom.  There was a moment of silence, then a sharp cry split the frigid air.

Mark Cohen shot up in his bed, startled awake.  Well, really, it was a futon but that doesn’t matter.  He pulled his blanket around him as protection from the cold and shuffled out of his room.  Slowing, cautiously, ever so quietly, Mark pushed open his roommate’s door.

Old posters covered the walls haphazardly.  The Doors, the Smiths, Pearl Jam.  Stacks of records were piled besides a old record player, salvaged from a junk pile at Goodwill.  Sheets of paper covered in scratchy print littered the floor.  Despite this chaos, what was most startling to Mark was the man in the bed before him.

Roger’s face shone with a layer of sweat, his handsome features contorted with pain.  Faded and worn sheets tangled around his thin body as he thrashed, moaning.  Mark’s young face seemed even more innocent as his eyes grew wide with worry.  He rushed to his friend’s side, dropping to the bed besides him.

“Shh, shh.  Roger, it’s alright, please wake up!” Mark cupped Roger’s face gently in his hands, brushing the older man’s long blonde hair away from his face.  One touch was all he need to confirm that it was not just a nightmare that was tormenting him.

Mark tucked his blanket in around the musician, knowing that without actual medication, warmth was his best bed for breaking Roger’s fever.  He pulled off his sweater and wrapped it around him.   _ It’s not enough.  He’s already wearing his coat.   _ Mark sighed and pulled his glasses off, setting them on the crate besides the bed.  He crawled under the covers, wrapping his arms around the older man.  The musician calmed, and curled into the other’s side.  Tucking his head besides Roger’s, Mark smiled slightly.  Despite the fact that Roger was far too hot, and still shaking as he had been for days, he wasn’t crying and Mark was actually able to touch him.

Mark had missed touching him.  Just the casual brush when he handed him his coffee, or they sat besides each other on their sad little couch.  Since April, and the decision to get clean, Roger had pretty much locked himself in his room.  It wasn’t good for him, and Mark had been starting to feel it wasn’t good for him either.  He needed Roger, to keep his feet on the ground while his head was in his films, to give him someone to talk to besides himself.  After breaking up with Maureen, Mark’s circle had grown significantly smaller.  Benny and Collins were gone, and it seemed as though Roger was gone too.  Now that Mark had finally crossed the threshold into the prison Roger had built for himself, there was no way he was going back.   _ Roger may want to fight this on his own, but I’m not letting him disappear again.  Never again will he be alone. _


End file.
